


Don't Kiss Me At All

by churchkey



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: AU, M/M, Post-War, angry kisses, basically fluff, but then they make up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:08:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27013252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/churchkey/pseuds/churchkey
Summary: Just a little slice of married life.Angry Kisses, Winnix-style. Written for the Band of Boyfriends Kisstober 2020 Challenge.
Relationships: Lewis Nixon/Richard Winters
Comments: 12
Kudos: 66
Collections: Band of Boyfriends Kisstober Challenge 2020





	Don't Kiss Me At All

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when I use Antiques Roadshow as writing inspo. Also, I spent exactly five minutes trying to find out how much Lew's auction purchase would have actually been worth in 1950~whatever and couldn't find anything, so if you happen to be an antiques dealer, feel free to edify me :)
> 
> Thanks to Laura for the beta <3

When Lew trudged down the stairs to the kitchen that morning, he assumed Dick had already left for work. Usually their little house was a flurry of activity in the morning. Lew was used to having the last hour of his sleep ruined by the racket Dick made as he showered and shaved and dressed for the day. In particular, the metallic squeal of the ironing board unfolding if Dick decided his shirt was too wrinkled was a sound that made him recoil in horror. Sleep was futile at that point, but he’d always lie there anyway, trying all the same. 

So when he’d woken to a quiet house, he’d expected to find the kitchen empty. He was startled to see Dick sitting at the table, holding a cup of coffee to his lips as he read the paper. He didn’t look up as Lew shuffled across the linoleum and opened the cupboard. 

“Morning,” Lew said. 

Dick hummed in response, a sound so subtle it was nearly inaudible. 

“Sleep okay?” If Dick replied, Lew couldn’t hear it over the splash of coffee pouring into his cup. He turned around and leaned his hip against the counter. 

“What was that?” 

With effort, Dick pulled his eyes away from the paper and looked at Lew. 

“Fine.”

Lew’s first thought was that Dick must be in one of his moods again. He got like that sometimes, distant and withdrawn, upset over something that had nothing to do with Lew and determined to work through it on his own. Lew walked over to the table and took his seat across from Dick. 

“Busy day?” 

Dick shrugged. “Why don’t you come see for yourself.”

“Can’t,” Lew said, brightening. “I’ve got that meeting with the editor at Viking.” 

“That’s today, huh?” Dick began folding up the paper.

“Yep.” Lew took another sip of coffee. “Are you going to wish me luck?” 

Dick looked at him with bored skepticism. “Are they aware you haven’t actually written anything yet?” 

And that was when Lew began to think that maybe Dick wasn’t upset over some argument he’d had with an operations manager or something he’d read in the paper. The cause of his anger was a little closer to home. 

Lew set his cup down on the table. 

“Say, what the hell’s the matter with you anyway?” 

Dick shook his head dismissively and stood up. “What the hell do you think,” he mumbled as he carried his cereal bowl across the room, the spoon rattling as he set it down in the sink.

Lew turned in his chair to face him as he walked out of the kitchen and into the living room. 

“Are you honestly still mad about yesterday?” 

Dick said nothing as he took his jacket from the closet and pushed his arms through the sleeves. 

“I thought _I_ could hold a grudge, but you - “ Lew smiled caustically and shook his head in wonder. “Buddy, you put me to shame.” 

Dick spun around and held his hands out in front of him like a lawyer trying to sway a jury with the obviousness of his logic. 

“Two thousand dollars, Lew.” Dick’s voice was louder, straining to stay even and controlled. 

Lew shrugged, bewildered. “Again, I don’t see the -”

“No,” Dick said. “No, I guess you wouldn’t.” He placed his hat on his head and picked up his briefcase. 

“It’s art nouveau, Dick.” 

“It’s an ashtray!” 

Lew laughed. “I assure you sweetheart, Louis Comfort Tiffany did not make -”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Dick said as he opened the front door. “What would I know about it anyway.” 

“Hey,” Lew called to him. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” He dropped his head back and tapped his index finger twice against his lips. 

Dick rolled his eyes as he walked back into the kitchen and pressed a dry and superficial kiss to Lew’s mouth. 

“Well if you’re going to kiss me like that, don’t kiss me at all.” 

It was Dick’s turn to laugh, which he did with no apparent enjoyment as he walked again to the door. He stood in the doorway for a moment and Lew felt the chill of morning blow suddenly through the house. Dick turned his head to speak over his shoulder. 

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” he said, and shut the door behind him.

* * *

The bacon kept slipping off the oysters in the oven. Lew cursed and tried again, stretching the slice of bacon taut around the slimy shapeless lump and securing it with two toothpicks. The drive home had taken him through Midtown, past clubs and restaurants that had never been quite the same since the war. A memory of a New Year’s Eve at 21 appeared to him out of the hazy distant past, highballs and a full orchestra, gauzy dresses and dainty canapes on fine silver trays. 

They were called Angels on Horseback. Or maybe Devils on Horseback; it was one of the two. No matter their name, Lew hoped Dick would see his after-a-fashion apology in the spread of exotic homemade hors d'oeuvres arranged lovingly on their best china plate. The man behind the deli counter had given him a brief demonstration and an hour later, Lew was hustling around the kitchen wearing a dish towel tucked into the front of his pants for an apron. 

It was just the sort of thing Dick would expect from him, one of the many high-born eccentricities he’d fallen in love with. Dick wouldn’t admit to it, and he didn’t have to. Lew could always see the enchanted fascination hiding behind the dubious quirk of his brow. They hadn’t forgotten those days, but sometimes they felt so far away, another life, receding day by day until it was nothing more than a faint blur on the horizon. Sometimes they just needed a reminder. 

He heard the front door open and close, the rustle of wool as Dick slid out of his jacket. Lew set the plate on the kitchen table and wiped his fingers on his towel. A moment later, Dick walked into the kitchen with a quizzical look on his face. 

“What is that?” he asked, sniffing. “Smells like bacon and…” he sniffed again. “The Bowery.” 

Lew narrowed his eyes at him. “They happen to be a delicacy.”

Dick picked up one of the bacon-wrapped oysters by the toothpick and twisted it between his fingers. He put it back on the plate. 

“How’d it go at Viking?” 

Lew opened the oven door. “They want to see pages before they’ll give me an advance,” he said, setting another tray of oysters on the rack.

Dick tipped his head to the side. “Seems reasonable.” 

Lew closed the oven and turned to face him. They stood quietly like that for a few moments, Dick with one leg draped over the edge of the table, Lew leaning back against the range, just looking at each other and waiting for the other to speak. Lew folded his arms across his chest and took a deep breath. 

“I’m sorry about the auction,” he said finally. “You’re right, I should have checked with you.” 

Dick looked down at the plate and began moving the oysters around on it, like a coach planning out a play. “It’s your money,” he said. “You can do whatever you want with it.”

Lew walked slowly toward him and stood in the space between his parted knees. He brought his hands to Dick’s hips. 

“It’s our money.” 

Dick looked back up at him. A coy and disarming smile played at his mouth and Lew couldn’t help himself. He leaned in and kissed Dick softly, and this time those full, firm lips held nothing back. 

He picked up one of the oysters off the plate and caught it between his teeth, pulling it off of the toothpick. He picked up another and held it in front of Dick’s mouth. Dick turned his head and tried to back away, but Lew followed him down. 

“Dick. Open your mouth. Come on. Do it. Just try it. Come on Dick, I slaved all day.” 

Finally, with a look of utter distrust flashing like a warning signal in his eyes, Dick opened his mouth and let Lew slide the oyster between his lips. He closed his teeth around it as Lew pulled the toothpick away. He chewed, grimacing, and swallowed hard. 

“Is it true what they say about these?” Dick asked. 

Lew blinked and suppressed a grin. “What do they say?” 

“That they make you - you know.” Dick raised his eyebrows. Lew just looked at him blankly. 

“Smarter?” 

“No.” Dick's voice dropped to a sexy murmur. He gathered the flap of towel at Lew's waist and pulled him forward “Excited.” 

“I don’t know,” Lew said. “You want to find out?” 

They looked into each other’s eyes for a moment and Lew could tell that whatever anger they'd been hanging onto had dissipated like the wispy fingers of clouds, everything clearing to blue. 

Lew picked up another oyster off the plate. A smile stretched slowly across Dick’s face. He opened his mouth.


End file.
